A Summoning
by NerdyWriterGirl
Summary: Carlos leaves Night Vale for his sister's birthday and ends up kidnapped. Inhuman!Cecil (Cecil/Carlos)


He left for his sister's birthday.

It wasn't a big important party, but Carlos knew his mother and sisters would be there, and he hadn't seen them since he moved to Night Vale almost a year and a half ago. When the mystical forces that controlled the town aligned and he was able to get a phone call through to his mother, all she had talked about was when he was coming home to visit, and since six months ago, bringing his boyfriend as well.

The party was at his mother's house, who didn't live too far away. It was only a seven hour drive from Night Vale to San Diego. Carlos tried to get Cecil to come along too, but Cecil informed him he had used up all of his vacation time and he would have to break several laws of physics in order to leave without a permit from the city council.

So Carlos went alone. He packed his car up early in the morning, Cecil stopped by to wish him goodbye before his early morning show, and Carlos drove out of Night Vale. Cecil had helped him fill out the proper applications and forms, and had shown him how to perform the leaving rituals on the tires.

He managed to get to his mother's house in a mere five hours. It was around noon when she welcomed him with open arms, babbling in Spanish about how tan he had gotten, that he was getting chubby, how much more grey hair he had. His sisters were less enthusiastic, but just as happy to see him.

People started arriving around three for the party. A lot of his old friends and some old colleagues showed up, asking him where he'd been. Carlos didn't go too far in to specifics, knowing that without seeing what he had saw people would never believe him. He showed everyone pictures of Cecil, describing him to friends with a bit of a blush. As soon as Cecil's show ended Carlos got about seven texts from the man, which ended in his mother stealing his phone and snapchatting Cecil, the two bonding over cats and knitting.

It was about an hour into the party when his younger sister, Greta, approached him.

"Carlos!" She seemed almost in hysterics. "We're out of dip! We have lots of chips left but no dip!"

"Calm down, _hermana_. I'll run to the store. Tell me what you need." So Carlos hopped into his car and drove out to the small supermarket in his sister's neighborhood. Unfortunately, nobody had told Carlos that that particular supermarket had closed seven months ago, and he was forced to go to one a neighborhood over.

Carlos drove towards the grocery store through the neighborhood, noting how downhill it had gone since he was a little kid. He decided it was a good idea to make this trip quick.

Carlos browsed the aisles, looking for the specific dip his sister wanted. It wasn't until he got to the check-out counter before he noticed the two men watching him. They were standing off to the side of the grocery store, dressed in all black and wearing hoodies so they concealed their faces. Carlos glanced at them out of the corner of his eye as he paid for the dip. He didn't want to seem too suspicious. They seemed to be murmuring to each other, Carlos's paranoia said about him.

He quickly paid and made his way to the car, almost laughing when he got there. Night Vale had made him paranoid. After several kidnappings by the Sheriff's Secret Police, he had gotten overly weary of people. He had just gotten a chuckle out as he unlocked his car when an arm wrapped around his torso and a sickly sweet cloth was pressed against his nose and mouth. He struggled, several more arms grabbing him and holding him down before black spots danced in his vision, and Carlos passed out.

He awoke uncomfortable, wrists and ankles bound with rope. His head was killing him, throbbing in time with the beating of his heart. He shifted around, attempting to get a better understanding of his surroundings. He appeared to be in some sort of warehouse. There were people around dressed in robes preparing what seemed to be some kind of pentagram for a ritual.

Carlos had been kidnapped by a cult which seemed to be preparing to sacrifice him to some kind of archaic deity.

He had become very used to recognizing the set-up of summoning pentagrams and the preparations associated with them. He felt around in the pocket of his lab coat for his phone, before remembering his mother had stolen it to text Cecil. He sighed. A man, obviously the high priest or whatever the leader was calling himself, came over in front of Carlos.

"So," Carlos said, "What's up?"

"You have been marked for the sacrifice to The Great God C'Cawl." The man stated in a low voice.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Marked?"

The man gestured. "Your neck." Carlos blushed.

About two months into their relationship Cecil had started spending the night over at Carlos's and visa versa. One morning, when Carlos woke, he noticed that he had a mark on his neck not there the previous night. When he asked Cecil about it, the man just blushed. He informed Carlos that his tattoos just got overexcited and one had decided that Carlos's neck would make a very nice place to live. Carlos hadn't been upset, actually a little flattered. Cecil had been embarrassed about it for a couple of days. It was a little thing, one of the many symbols that littered Cecil's body. Carlos recognized it as the one that had previously been over his heart. Carlos grew quite fond of it, especially when he noticed it changed colors depending on the weather.

"Oh." Carlos responded. "And that marks me as a sacrifice?" The man nodded. "Great." He sighed. Carlos considered for a second that he should actually be a little more concerned about the fact he was about to die. After his time in Night Vale, near-death experiences were a daily thing, and if Carlos got worked up every single time he was about to die, he'd never get _anything_ done, right? At least, that's what the Sheriff's Secret Police had said to him after a small anxiety attack and an incident with his toaster.

Once the less than menacing hooded men finished the preparations, one of them dragged Carlos into the center of the pentagram. That one remained next to Carlos holding an insidious looking dagger, the rest took places around the edge of the circle. They started chanting, a couple of words Carlos recognized from Cecil's bloodstone rituals.

The man lowered the knife and Carlos began to get nervous. Candles flickered around the edge of the circle, shaking almost as much as Carlos's hands. He swallowed as the blade approached his neck, tears springing to his eyes. The cool metal, or bone, or whatever it was made of touched the side of his neck, drawing blood. The hot liquid rolled down his neck, and a single drop hit the floor.

All of the air seemed to vanish. A chill settled into the room, causing the cultists to stumble over their incantations. Shadows seemed to peel themselves from the walls, swirling around towards the center of the pentagram. The man previously holding the dagger to Carlos's neck stepped back away from the swirling mass, standing next to his fellow cult members. Carlos tried to do the same, but more in the fashion of an inch worm, and stopped just short of the edge.

A low humming type sound was emanating from the black mass, tendrils of shadows whipping out from the dense dark center. Eyes opened along it, purple irises glaring out at the humans.

"Oh great C'Cawl." The leader dropped to the floor, his followers quickly joining him.

A sense of familiarity washed over Carlos. "Wait a second…" He said.

"Carlos?" a voice emanated from the blob, like nails on a chalkboard and grating into everyone's ears.

"Cecil?" Carlos replied, stunned. The horror in front of him slowly condensed, taking the shape of a man before fading into the familiar features. Sharp teeth twisted up into a smile.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in his bubbly tone, before taking in the state of him. Immediately the dark aura surrounded him again, feeling the room with fear.

"I'm fine." Carlos assured him. "Just a little nick. It's not a big deal, I've had worse." He attempted to calm Cecil down.

Cecil turned on the cultists. "What did you do to him?" he hissed.

The leader's eyes grew wide. "We were only trying to please you, my lord." He choked out. "He was marked as a sacrifice."

"He was marked as _mine_." Cecil snarled.

"Wait, what?" Carlos said, and Cecil flushed purple.

"Sorry." He said shyly, walking over to Carlos. Two of his tentacles snaked out, breaking the ropes restraining him and helping him to his feet.

"No, it's fine." Carlos said shaking out his wrists. "Just… you didn't need to lie to me." He winced and touched his neck.

"Does it hurt?" Cecil hovered about him. "Here, let me heal you…" He pressed a hand to the wound, eyes glowing purple for a few seconds before grabbing a handkerchief to wipe the blood off the newly healed skin. "I thought the blood seemed familiar." He murmured.

Carlos shot him a look and muttered a thanks before turning to the cultists, most of which had tried to escape through the warehouse door before being blocked by Cecil's shadows. "Now, what are we going to do with them?" he asked.

Cecil growled. "I don't know." He approached them while remaining in the circle, taking each one up in a tentacle.

"Please my lord! We were only trying to serve you!" the leader begged, all others crying similar things. "We will never make the mistake again!"

Cecil's grip around them tightened, anger in his eyes, before Carlos shrugged and said "It's true."

"Make sure of it!" Cecil's voice boomed before releasing them, and they scurried off into the night. Cecil turned to Carlos. "I missed you." He whined, wrapping arms and tentacles around Carlos's waist.

"I left less than eight hours ago." Carlos said, kissing Cecil. "And I never knew you had your own cult."

"You never asked." Cecil responded, nuzzling into his neck. "And you left twelve hours and sixteen minutes ago. But I'm not counting."

"_Twelve?_" Carlos said in horror. "The party." He groaned. "I went to the store to get some dip."

"Stay here with me." Cecil murmured, kissing him again.

"No, lo siento. I told them I'd be right back. I'll be home tomorrow night." He detangled himself from the limbs and headed towards the door. Cecil followed as far as he could, limited by the circle.

"That's not soon enough." Cecil whined.

Carlos just laughed. "I'll snapchat you."

"Promise?" Cecil called out.

"Promise."

Cecil slowly dissipated into shadows, his projection returning back to Night Vale. Carlos smiled at the circle, absent-mindedly rubbing the tattoo on the back of his neck.

Now to figure out a good excuse to tell his family.


End file.
